My Dear Old Friend
by Marjatta
Summary: Robin and Much are very brave, evil Gisborne lurks about wreaking damage wherever he goes, Robin visits a nunnery, and Much loses his hat.


Authors: Co-written and/or beta'd by Marjatta (epilogue) and Primarycolors (story). We don't even quite know who wrote what anymore.  
Genre: Angst, R/M, implied Will/Djaq, Robin and Much friendship  
Rating: T for violence  
Warnings: No spoilers, unless you don't know who the traitor is in S2. Multiple Character Death! (but maybe not as bad as that sounds).  
Credits/Disclaimers: We don't own the characters of BBC's Robin Hood. We don't make any profit, this is just for fun.  
Synopsis: Robin and Much are very brave, evil Gisborne lurks about, wreaking damage wherever he goes, Robin visits a nunnery, and Much loses his hat.  
Reviews are welcome!

**My Dear Old Friend**

Robin felt him trembling though the morning air was mild.

"Much," Robin pressed the heel of his hand into his eye and sighed. "Much, I am sorry it has come to this, my friend."

They sat back to back in an abandoned storehouse in Clun Village. The sunlight slanting across Robin's boots told him it wasn't mid morning...they had a little waiting to do yet. He braced his hands on his knees and bowed his head as though in thought, staring blankly.

"I never thought I...I never thought we would end this way." Much shrugged and traced the pattern in his shield, scratching absently at a bit of dried blood. "Well, I did, but not here. Not in England! Not like this."

"There is still time for you to get out." Robin tipped his head back, their hair mingling in the patchy sunlight. Much had lost his cap long ago. "You could still make a life for yourself. It's no Bonchurch, you know," trying to make a joke as he ran a hand through the sun bleached hair hanging in his eyes. "You can read now..." He turned his head. "It will be easier for you."

"I've told you before, if you die, I will die," Much retorted, a little too loudly in the empty barn. "Unless...you were thinking of escaping?"

Robin smiled and fell silent, thinking of Much's unique talent for such hopeful fatalism. But before the tears could come, he closed his eyes. He would not cry today.

"When will they be here?"

Robin frowned, fingering the curve of his bow. "Not much longer now."

The shadows inched across the dirt floor.

"She would not have wanted this for you, you know." Much shifted, drawing a deep breath.

"It doesn't matter," Robin murmured. "I will not live without her...I cannot live without her." Somewhere outside, a thrush called to its mate, oblivious to the turmoil of the men inside.

"But you were able to leave her before, before...when we left for the Holy Lands..." Much pushed, steeling himself for a tirade.

Instead, Robin stood and paced the length of the barn, his boots finally coming to rest in front of his most trusted and loyal friend. He dropped down and touched him on the shoulder, waiting until Much lifted his eyes.

"I carried her to the abbey," he whispered, as if whispering would somehow quiet the ache he felt. "I gave a large donation to ensure they took care of her, to make sure...make sure things were carried out...in the proper way." Robin's red-rimmed eyes were bright as he stared at Much. "It was not hard to leave her because I knew I would see her again so soon."

He carried her a long time, daring anyone to stand in his way. He pretended she was sleeping and he was carrying her to their bedchamber. He talked as he carried her, breathing the words he knew she loved to hear. He remembered the first time he had ever properly told her he loved her. It had taken him a while to say the words but once he started, he had found it was hard to stop. She would grin and purr and roll her eyes, throw her arms around his neck and bury her hands in the hair at the base of his neck. Then she would whisper breathlessly in his ear that he thrilled her and ask if he was going to back up what he'd claimed, her eyelashes tickling his cheek as she laid her chin on his shoulder.

He walked steadily, her curls spilling over the crook of his arm as he told her about the gang and Prince John, his army here in England with his brother fast on his heels, only days behind. The outlaws fought bravely against John and the Sheriff's forces combined to hold the line for the king but in the end they were horribly outnumbered. It was Will Scarlett who'd struck the fatal blow to the sheriff, finishing what he had begun all those many months ago. Across the clearing, Djaq saw Gisborne himself cut Will down, who was busy fighting off two of the sheriff's personal guard, and she gave such an agonized wail that men everywhere paused in their battles. She launched herself into Gisborne's path, backing him up against a wall with such frenzied swordplay that she would have killed him had it not been for a guard's well-placed arrow from twenty yards away. Robin had always expected that he would be the one to kill Gisborne but it was John, who, after the deed was done turned away immediately to gingerly gather the small Saracen girl in his arms. It took 15 arrows until the big man moved no more.

Robin stopped and rested in a hidden place on the road. The moon rose over the trees, casting mournful shadows across the ground...but where the light managed to escape, the world was lit with an unearthly glow. He caught his breath as he saw how beautiful she was and kissed her softly on the lips. He felt buoyant and light, the aches from battle fading to memory. He gathered her closer and breathed her in, needing to tell her how the story ended. He continued as though he were talking about some other outlaw, far away, another time.

So fate would have it that the mighty Robin Hood saw his comrades fall together, one right after another. He fought with Much, back to back but broke away, determined to find an escape though the possibility looked grim. He was desperate to find his love, for it was she who had gathered the critical information that allowed the outlaws to save the village. The combined deaths of Gisborne and the sheriff caused confusion within the ranks of the soldiers, and Robin took full advantage. Grabbing Much, they ran for it, hewing and hacking their way through soldiers as if they were merely saplings in the path of Will Scarlett's axe. Much's sobs rang in the tense forest air, for while what mattered most to him was alive and well, his dear friends would not be escaping into the trees with them this time.

Robin wasn't sure why Marian hadn't met them in the village; the agreement on the location had been their last conversation. Now that Gisborne and the sheriff were dead, what could be keeping her from him? He fit a small dagger in his ankle holster.

"Master, where are you going?" Much looked lost.

"I'm going to the castle. Marian did not come when she was supposed to. I'm bringing her back with me." Robin now stuffed extra arrows in his quill, impatient to be off.

"What if something happens? I should go with you." Much's face was hopeful but Robin's worry and grief over his gang made him uncivil, irritable.

"Much, nothing is going to happen to me! Just GO! Meet me at the old barn in Clun. This is no time to argue!"

But Much came anyway. Nothing and no one would separate him from his master.

Robin made the final turn that would bring him to the entrance of the abbey. He knew there would be a sister awake to receive him, to receive her. As he stood in front of the gates he found himself reluctant to enter; it would mean letting her go. But he had been seen. Like a ghost, a sister appeared to unlock the entrance, having recognized him.

"Master Robin!"

"Sister," he croaked. "I have a favor to ask. I need you to take care of Lady Marian."

"Please, come in. I will send a novice to fetch the doctor..." The gate was open and she turned in haste, the Lady obviously needed immediate attention.

"No," Robin said quietly.

The old woman turned and peered into Marian's face, touching the soft hair at her temple.

"Oh," she said, and looked sadly at Robin. She cupped his cheek and smiled at him, sure that he was unaware that his face was wet with tears; he looked like he'd been crying for some time. The abbess had known his father years ago, knew that Robin was a good man, the very best of men.

"Bring her in, sir. We will make sure she is comfortable."

He did not stay long. Only long enough to kiss her face, her hands, the ring he had given her. And he did not look back.

The abbess sat in deep thought. The moon shone outside and the stained-glass windows cast broken shadows across the room. A novice had just brought her a peasant cap, soaked through with blood. It didn't belong to the Lady...what should they do with it? She placed the cap on the floor, in front of her small altar and prayed for his soul. She prayed to God to give him peace. She knew that boy would not live another day.

"Master? ...Master?" Much asked softly. Robin's eyes swam into focus, and he grinned at Much.

"What is it that John says? It's a good day to die!" He paused when there was no reaction. "Are you missing your cap my friend?"

"Master. I'm sorry that you weren't the one to rid the world of that devil's spawn in leather," he spewed out in a rush. "You deserved to kill him since...since," Much shook his head, unable to finish.

"Since he was the one that murdered Marian," Robin mused, emotionless.

"Yes, well...yes." Much firmed his jaw, his chin beginning to quiver despite his determination.

Robin turned toward the barn door listening, his head cocked to one side.

Much ran after Robin, knowing his master would need him before this day was done. Much was there to catch him when he fell in the castle hallway, the terrified servant girl pointing the direction where two bodies lay. Much questioned the girl quickly; his master would want to know...when he was able to listen. But Robin had already read the scene. Poor, misunderstood, traitorous Allan, his arm flung across Marian's body, protecting her even in death. The Nightwatchman had been unmasked at last, and Gisborne had shown no mercy.

Robin turned his back and spoke kindly to the frightened servant, "You don't need to fear Lord Gisborne or the sheriff any longer, they are dead." The girl stared with wide eyes. "Go to your family," he said, nodding his head toward the hallway behind her, "go and hide for a few days because Prince John and his armies are here. The king will be here in two days time. Then you will be safe."

He turned back and found Much weeping piteously over Marian, mopping up a small pool of blood at her back with his cap. Robin felt that Much would be his undoing.

"Much," he begged. "Much, please, leave me."

"Don't send me away," Much stood up, twisting his fingers together, "Please. Please don't send me away."

Robin fell to his knees in front of Marian; his hand hovering over her, as if touching her would make it real. He looked up at Much. The light was failing, painting the hallway with a dull red glow.

"My friend, if you have ever loved me, let me take care of her. I do not deserve you Much; you are a better man than I will ever be. But I wish you would go, make a life for yourself while you can. The king is coming. You are very brave, and he will take care of you." Robin grasped his hand, fixing him with a steady blue gaze. "I will be waiting for Prince John when he arrives in Clun. I will be in the abandoned barn at sunrise. I hope we do not meet again in this life, but if it is what you wish, that is where I will be."

Much backed up a few steps and said no more, watching as Robin moved Allan aside and gently picked Marian up off the floor. Robin's breath hitched as her head lolled on his arm, but he quickly arranged her so that she appeared only to be sleeping, a sweet dream upon her face. Nodding at Much, he walked by, his head held high, cold determination in his face.

"They are here," Robin said grimly, as Much drew his sword.

"I assume you have a plan?" Much peered through a crack in the wall. When he didn't answer, Much turned, only to find Robin grinning at him.

"Well, half a plan." Robin chuckled as he fit an arrow to his string.

"I don't know how you can joke at a time like this!"

"Relax, Much. Today I am an assassin. When Price John comes in range I will drop him. I will not miss. After that," he cleared his throat. "After that I don't know." The sounds of horses, men and swords now were too apparent to ignore.

"It's a good day Much!" Robin said seriously, grabbing Much and hugging him fiercely.

Much sighed. "I guess it is. For England?"

"For her. And for England"

Epilogue

The pain was noticeable now. His body had already taken on more wounds than he knew. Then...

He saw it happen. A bright blade ripped through the air and caught Much's sword arm. Weapon and the hand that held it fell to the ground. Much's body floated down gracefully to land on top. He had seen such things before. It never turned out any different. Even as the shock of despair hurtled through him, he spun away instinctively, knowing that distractions were death.

Why was it so quiet suddenly? At least it didn't really hurt anymore.

His world was spinning as he tightened the grip on his sword, making an effort to focus on the enemies that surrounded him.

He tried to cut down a soldier on his left, but the man only straightened and stepped back. His mouth moved, speaking words to a mate, but no sound came out. Robin struggled to lift his sword one more time, yet all was still. The scene was fading before him.

In the grey mist, he tried to sit up. It seemed everyone else was gone, and he wished to leave, too. He was puzzled by the weight holding him down yet he knew there must be a way to be free of it. At last he managed to rise to his knees, but the barn had disappeared from view, and he did not know what to do next. Then his father's voice called from over his shoulder, and it got easier.

Frealaf the old tanner watched the scene at the barn dejectedly from his remote work-hut doorway. Thus all things good came to an end. He knew what had to be happening inside the barn. Many people would suffer for this. Yet it seemed people suffered for everything these days. There was no more good news. Nevertheless Frealaf wished he could see what was happening. It must be ugly, but at least then he could tell a better tale. People would want to know. No matter, he thought as he watched the birds of prey gather in the trees. People will fill in the details they do not know.

Prince John and his escort never risked coming near and had turned away as soon as it was clear there would be no further opposition. The remaining soldiers, only six or seven, left the barn. Two of them were being carried or nearly so, as they prepared to ride away. Frealaf sighed. More would likely come soon to collect the bodies. They will bring Robin Hood and his loyal friend to Nottingham, and Frealaf would see the two heads on spikes when he next brought his wares to the Castle. That thought hurt more than anything else about this sorry business. It disgusted him, too. Why were those privileged to be in charge so barbaric? Robin didn't deserve such a fate, even though he was actually in a better place now and probably wouldn't care. That's what the preachers who traveled about giving lessons would say, but Frealaf wasn't satisfied. He called to Randal, his young apprentice.

"Come quickly, and grab those old cloaks."

The boy, who had withdrawn in fear to the back of the work hut when the battle began, looked up questioningly but did as he was told. The two of them stepped out into the quiet field. The widowed goodwife of the neighboring farm which owned the land next to the barn also emerged from her own doorway with several children hiding behind her skirts. She was lucky that her house had been left alone. Frealaf waved to her, and she approached.

"I intend to collect their bodies for decent burial," he said gruffly. "Your cart and horse—will you lend it?"

Goodwife Rimilda understood what the tanner meant. She sent the children indoors and wordlessly went to hitch the horse and cart. Frealaf left Randal to help her and to bring the vehicle along to the barn.

Inside the barn, the carnage was shocking even though Frealaf had already seen it in his mind's eye. At first he did not think he could recognize any body in this godforsaken battlefield, but quickly enough, he found them both in the center of the horror. Even as he pressed his arm to his mouth to stay his own natural reaction to such violence he marveled at how bravely they had fought. As soon as Randal came, together they wrapped the mortal remains of two mere outlaws in the old cloaks the tanner had kept for work rags. Now they were shrouds.

With their cargo loaded on the cart, the tanner and his apprentice headed for the forest road to the old monastery just a few miles away. His nephew was a lay brother there. Perhaps the holy men could be prevailed upon to give up a corner of turf-covered earth on their grounds for these two unfortunates to have a place to sleep in peace. Frealaf didn't see why it even had to be consecrated earth. Some things mattered more to the priests than to ordinary people. As he passed the farmhouse, Rimilda came out again to offer some straw to cover and disguise what lay in the cart. She cried as she touched the shrouds in farewell.

When Frealaf spoke with the priests that evening, he was relieved to learn that they were sympathetic to his wishes. He promised in return to do whatever leather work they needed in the coming year. The abbot himself regretted that outlaws could not be placed in holy earth but added that all the monks wanted in their hearts to do their best for the brave lord of Locksley. His like was so rarely born these days. Another grave was just now being dug by some brothers in a very pleasant corner of their meadow. The sisters at the neighboring convent had earlier asked the monks to bury a poor young woman who had been brutally murdered by the Sheriff's lieutenant. There had been criminal charges against her, but she had been given no trial, only death. The abbot and prior declined to bury her in the churchyard for fear of Sir Gisborne's anger, and so it was decided that her grave be hidden in a remote corner of the abbey lands. It was a good place for restful solitude, and the abbot promised that this honorable outlaw and his loyal friend would be placed there as well, beside her, forever.

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